Disclaimer: These characters are not mine and have been merely purloined from the wonderfully creative mind of Joss Whedon, the rest of the Buffy writers and their associated companies.
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Spike/Xander
This is set post Entropy. Anything else in season 6 never happened, particularly Seeing Red.
Summary: Xander confronts Spike about certain events in Entropy.
Feedback: Yes please!
If anyone wants it, just ask.
Author’s Note: This is set post Entropy. Anything else in season 6 never happened, particularly Seeing Red.
Thanks once again to Wajoma for being my guinea-pig :D



Part One

“What do you want?” Spike didn’t even look up.

Xander stood at the door to the crypt and looked with undisguised loathing at its inhabitant. 

“I just want to know why,” said Xander, his voice still filled with hate. “Why they let you touch them, why they would even think of letting you touch them-”

Spike let out a low laugh, bitter, cold.

“Is that what you want to know Harris? Seduction tips from a monster?” He turned then and surveyed Xander. He could have told the boy a thing or two. Could have predicted the wedding disaster months ago if he’d been bothered. But Spike had saved all his perceptive analysis for Buffy. Xander’s self righteous anger, and his tirade and the beating a few days ago was just enough incentive for Spike now to share his pearls of wisdom. “Or is it something else. Why they’d come to me for comfort, you mean, and not you?”

“Shut up. No. I don’t know what vampire hypnosis crap you pulled, but you did something-”

“That’s it, isn’t it Harris?” Spike’s tone was full of triumphant surprise. “You always wanted Buffy and she’d never have you. And then you bollockst things up with Anya and she wouldn’t have you either.”

“Oh but they’d have you right Spike? Yeah that’s it - I’m so fucking jealous of you.”

“Let me ask you, Harris, what really upset you, the fact that Anya shagged another bloke or that she shagged me?”

“I think it’s the fact that you’re a vampire. An evil, disgusting-”

“Shut the fuck up.” The words were cold and suddenly Xander forgot that Spike was harmless.

Spike stood slowly. “I know what I am,” he said and walked with deliberate slowness towards Xander.  “You’ve said your piece, now you’ll shut the bloody hell up and listen to mine.”

Xander glared at him. “I don’t have to-”

Xander didn’t even get to move. Suddenly Spike was in front of him, forcing him to step back against the wall.

“You’re a fucking git, you know that Harris. I might be a vampire, and I might be evil, but at least I’ve got the knackers to love a woman. And you can blame me for taking some comfort with Anyanka once you’d let her get away, but its not me that left her standing at the altar.” Spike pushed away from Xander. “And if you hadn’t noticed she’s a demon, not an ex-demon, a now demon. So don’t you tell her you don’t want her cause she fucked a demon, be a man and tell her you don’t want her because she is one and you can’t see past your own prejudices.”

“She’s a vengeance demon again?”

“I smelt it,” said Spike shortly.

“And why should I believe you? Why should I listen to you –”

“Don’t,” said Spike. “Don’t trust me, don’t fucking ask me to help save the fucking world, if that’s what you want.” Spike frowned. “You know, you never let it go, did you Harris. Nothing I did could ever make you look past the fact that I’m a vampire.”

“Yeah well Spike, I was right not to trust you wasn’t I? You screwed my girlfriend the first chance you got.”

“Ex-girlfriend you stupid git, get the bloody hell over it.”

Xander stepped forward, almost in Spike’s face.

“No Spike, I won’t get over it, I will never get over it, and I. Will. Never. Forgive. You.”

With massive force, Xander was thrust back against the wall. Spike’s fists bunched in his shirt, lifting him up from the floor. Spike opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly stopped, no words coming, no words enough to express what he needed. He just stood there, panting slightly, jaw clenched, and his eyes burning into Xander with something so fierce that Xander found his anger being stripped away; deflated and replaced with all the other emotions that had been burning beneath the boiling hate. He stared back at Spike, the silence stretching between them, twisting on their emotions, turning into something else.

“Why?” he asked quietly, his eyes fixed on Spike’s. 

“Because-” Spike began, but the words died again, seemingly forgotten, as his eyes searched Xander’s.

Xander’s heart was beating too loudly and he felt overwhelmed by emotion.

“Because?” he heard himself prompt, but was too busy staring back at Spike, too close, too intimate, too intoxicating…

“Because,” said Spike firmly and their lips met.

The kiss was fierce and passionate. They both pulled back, gasping, staring at each other. Spike let go of his tight hold on Xander’s jacket. His hands dropped to his sides.

Xander swallowed hard. “So that was us kissing,” he said, more to fill the silence.

Spike nodded. “Still can’t stand you,” he said absently.

“Mutual fangless.”

It might have been Spike who took the step or it might have been Xander or it might have been both of them. Whoever moved first didn’t matter, in a moment the gap between them was closed and Spike’s lips crushed against Xander’s with the same ferocity and hunger that had been there before. And it was Xander who pushed Spike’s duster off his shoulder and it was Spike who pulled the buttons off Xander’s shirt as he tore it open. They ground together, lips seeking lips, pulling and pushing each other closer, devouring, taking, needing. Spike’s hand slipped down between Xander and his waistband. Lips soon left lips, briefly, with half whispered, half breathed questions and replies.



And somehow Spike’s belt was undone and Xander’s jeans unzipped. And mouths and lips caught mutual groans. Lips pulling away from lips, as hips ground together, as hands stroked and touched.

“Like that pet?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Yeah, it’s good.”

Lips barely brushing, foreheads resting against each other, cool against warm. Panting, lust, rising desire, passion, need.

“Do that, just like that,” breathed Spike.

“Haven’t done this before,” murmured Xander.

“I know love, me neither.”

“It’s ok though right?”

“Very ok, you?”

“Yeah, going with the ok. Ohfuck yes…”

More panting, heavier this time, and Xander’s hands gripping Spike’s shoulder, and Spike’s arm wrapped too tightly around Xander. And one, two more strokes and Xander was collapsing against Spike and Spike pumped another three times and groaned against Xander’s dark hair.

They stood like that for a moment, supporting each other, then Xander snickered.

And then Spike snorted.

“Get off me,” he said, but it wasn’t unkindly.

Xander stood up and stepped back, looking down at Spike’s cum covered stomach and now flaccid penis. Spike. His mortal enemy. A guy. A vampire.

Oh god. He felt so dirty.

He turned and walked out of the crypt.


Spike sat in the dark for a long time after Xander left. He snorted and told himself that he should be used to this by now, the fuck followed by the disgusted exit, but it only stopped the dull ache for a few seconds and made him feel less foolish for only a few more. So this was what he was now, not dark terror, but a guilty, dirty little secret. He  wondered darkly how many more of the Scoobies would fuck him then spit on him. Something curled and twisted inside Spike. Dirty, nasty, filthy. Bad. Shameful. They didn’t even fear him, only used him. In so many ways, when they couldn’t even bear to call him a friend.

Why the fuck did he stand it? Why the bloody hell did he put up with it? Why? Why? Why? Spike pulled his knees up close to his body. He knew why.

“It’s because you’re pathetic,” he told himself. Pathetic, to want their company, to hope for their friendship.

To think he had their friendship. He’d waited, at first, for love. For love he’d stubbornly believed he could earn, could take, would somehow be given, after the sex, after the passion.

Spike buried his face in his knees.


Bloody hell, he was pathetic.

And those chocolate brown eyes filled with lust and concern and those soft whispered caring words that made the dull ache stop for just long enough for him to make a bloody fool of himself.

Spike stood, he felt wrong, so wrong, he needed to get out of here. He had to leave.


One thing good about the incident, Xander thought to himself as he tossed and turned in his empty bed that night, was that he could totally relate to Buffy and Anya now. He cringed inwardly again thinking about what he’d done. Oh crap.



Evil. Bad. Had he mentioned evil? Spike.

And why was his cock reacting like that?

It had been…oh, a mistake all right. Big, bad, whopper of a mistake.

He wasn’t even gay.

So, ok, understanding Buffy and Anya…

What was worse, was that no matter how much he wished he could believe Spike had manipulated him, used him, he was annoyingly aware of how mutual the whole thing had been. Xander lay on his back and tried to think rationally about the situation. Why Spike? He still didn’t know. Definitely didn’t know how verbally tearing the guy a new one turned into kissing and mutual hand jobs. There was a twinge of desire in Xander’s loins at this thought so he resolutely blocked it out of his mind.


Passion. The thought flashed into Xander’s mind before he could stop it, so he took it on board. It was true, Spike was…so…pent up. Sexual energy coiled up, just waiting to happen, barely contained. Ok, that wasn’t helping. But that didn’t seem to be the reason, Xander knew heaps of sexy guys, and girls for that matter, with just as much sex appeal, he didn’t go around jumping them. Spike was different, had been different, Xander amended. It wasn’t a was. It was a had.

He remembered Spike’s face. And suddenly, in a rare flash of perceptiveness, he understood what it was. It was the need. Spike needed. It was in his face, it was in his actions. That was what it was. That was why.

The knowledge twisted up Xander inside – the memory of that need, written large on Spike’s face, the raw, pleading, desperate need…need for what? Love? Acceptance?



Xander thumped his pillow and reminded himself that he hated Spike and that Spike was evil, but it still didn’t stop him from feeling like a bit of a prick.


Riding was good. Spike could concentrate on the road. Think about where he was going. And if he did that he wouldn’t turn back. It was an hour til dawn but he’d make it in plenty of time. L.A. wasn’t that far away. So close. Why hadn’t he done this sooner? So much sooner, before being there had reduced him to this, to this pathetic nothing. Spike stared ahead at the road. Well not for long. He’d get over them and he’d be himself again.

Spike forgave himself a single sardonic thought about them; he warranted he’d answered Xander’s question well enough.


The first thought Xander had when he woke the next morning was about Spike. He groaned, embarrassed, dreading seeing the bleached menace again. Then the thought hit him, why would he see him again? He wasn’t talking to Buffy. He had no reason to go to the Magic Box. Why would he need to see Spike? That would be good. So good, yeah, never to have to see him again. Ever, again.

Xander staggered into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. Oh yeah Buffy. Buffy and Spike. Doing the horizontal tango. Spike and Anya. Spike and him. The thoughts he’d had the night before, about ‘why’ came back to him. A surge of heat flooded his groin at the sudden mental picture of Spike’s expression – the need, so plain now that he’d recognised it for what it was. And at the time it had made it seem so right. The fire and the passion, everything Spike did making him feel so wanted, so needed. Xander vaguely wondered if he had seemed the same to Spike. He remembered the oddly pleasant feeling of almost camaraderie as they touched, whispered to each other, shared…Xander leaned heavily against the sink as an intense wave of desire flooded through him. The thought of Spike’s voice, murmuring in his ear, soft words, kind words, so unlike what he’d expected from Spike. No mockery, no disdain, just want…

“Do that, just like that.”

“Haven’t done this before.”

“I know love, me neither.”

“It’s ok though right?”

“Very ok, you?”

And just for that brief few minutes he had forgotten how much everything hurt.

Xander fingers gripped the bench tightly. He ached.


The memory of warm skin. Spike rolled over in bed, blocking out the thought. It had become so he wasn’t sure whose warm skin he was thinking of anymore. Buffy had blurred into Anya and Xander. A gestalt entity symbolising his humiliation and defeat in Sunnydale. And the desire he fought to crush, the need to return he denied every moment. And it was the fuel for his anger, his resolve not to go back, to make things better, to change…back.

He had an actual place to live now. Posh joint. It was amazing how you could earn money in L.A. It hadn’t been exactly pleasant, but still, he had enough dosh for rent and plenty of blood. Oh and the alcohol.

Because he needed that now. A lot.

Again the thought of warm skin. This time accompanied by the memory of a soft groan, a groan that he refused to acknowledge thinking about, a groan that accompanied chocolate eyes, and a look of such hurt and pain and anger that for a moment Spike had thought he could see his own reflection. Hurt and need. It had been like Anya…yet she hadn’t been about passion or pain that needed to be released, she had been about balm and comfort and being fairly drunken. She hadn’t been about anger and hate and something so unstoppable that something had to happen. Xander was the final act of despair that had started when Spike had beaten and been beaten and then fucked until a house fell down.


Xander knew he had to see Buffy eventually. He just hadn’t wanted it to be this soon. Not because he couldn’t forgive her anymore, but because he was ashamed, because now he could understand her only too well, because he didn’t want her to know that. But she had come round to talk to him because she didn’t want to not be friends, and Xander had sat and pretended everything was ok, but not too ok, and resisted the urge to ask about Spike and to ask about Anya and to just tell her everything.

Buffy had explained. Had told him how she and Spike had had a “thing”, but it was over now. She’d told Spike it was over. Up until that moment, Xander had resisted thinking about Spike’s motivations. Xander knew that what had happened had to have meant nothing to the vampire. Knew it was just the moment. But now, as Buffy spoke, Xander understood the need, because he felt that too, at night when Anya should have been beside him, as he walked alone along the street, felt it in the anger that had fuelled him and boiled in his veins. Spike burnt for Buffy. And he understood maybe a little about Anya and Spike too. And some of the resentment and hate he still bore towards Spike dissolved a little. It made what he’d done that night clearer, too. The desperate need, the seeking of something…comfort, some sort of release. They had both felt the same. Xander, was quite prepared for all these feelings. He wasn’t, however, prepared for the jealousy.  It disconcerted him and he was glad when Buffy left and he could stop feeling the weird sense of resentment that had formed deep inside him. Once more he found himself looking in the bathroom mirror, looking into this own eyes, trying to read his own expression. He saw his own need.

God he wished it would stop hurting. He missed Anya, he hated Anya, he hated Spike, he hated Buffy, but he didn’t, not, not really, not anymore. The hate had gone and all that remained was the hurt. He remembered the only time it had stopped.

Time went slowly. Xander went to work. Xander came home. Xander slept. Xander ached. He wondered if Spike hurt like this. And again felt guilty though he couldn’t explain why.

One night, when he’d woken up, hurting, trying not to cry, he got out of bed before he could think about it, pulled on some clothes and headed out into the dark. It was a long walk to the crypt, but Xander didn’t think about where he was going so he couldn’t change his mind.

Clem was surprised to see Xander walk through the door. He was pleased too actually, late night television didn’t have a lot to offer and he was a bit bored now that Spike was gone.

Part Two

Five days and five and a half nights. Five days and five and a half nights since he’d left Sunnydale. Five days and five and a half nights.

It took all of Spike’s self control to stop from going back.

Not again.

This time was for good.

He was going to kick the Sunnyhell habit. Get over it. Get over them.

No more bloody Scoobies. No more bloody stupid humans. Never again.

Fuck them all.

He waved his empty glass at the barman. There was not enough alcohol.


Xander really didn’t know why he was following a glowing little spark of light through L.A., he just knew that when Clem had told him last night that Spike had left, that it was not a good thing. And that it was probably his fault.

So. Here he was. Following Tara’s sprite through pretty damn scary streets. What he was going to do when he found Spike he wasn’t quite sure. He figured he’d work it out when he got there.

The tinkerbell light turned a corner and Xander had to run to keep up as it zipped ahead and then hovered under a bright neon sign: GIRLSXXXX.

”Always said you were a classy guy Spike,” muttered Xander as he followed the light inside.

It was dark and gloomy and the music was too loud.

Xander stood feeling rather lost for a moment, before the light buzzed impatiently then started off through the other patrons.


Spike froze as he felt the hand on his back. His senses were dulled from the smoke and too much bourbon, but the scent of the person standing behind him was so familiar it was unmistakable, particularly with that edge of ever-present fear. Spike didn’t move. What the bloody bleeding fuck was Harris doing here? Then the hand moved. It ran down Spike’s back, then around his side, and then there was more Xander touching him as the stupid human kid put his arms around him, pressed against his back and…gave him a hug.


Xander wasn’t sure why he was hugging Spike. All he knew was that when he had approached and tentatively touched Spike’s hunched leather clad back, he looked so damn depressed, so miserable that, well, he had to do something. He’d felt the vampire flinch, had felt…something like a shudder. And hugging had seemed the thing to do.

He felt Spike’s hand on his arm, felt him squeeze briefly, and then Xander pulled back.

He suddenly felt embarrassed.  He didn’t know what to say, but then Spike spoke.

“Bloody go, would you Harris?” he said, his voice thick.

“No,” Xander said.

And then it was Spike who was leaving, Spike pushing off his bar stool and starting off into the dark. Xander grabbed at his arm.

“Spike. Wait.”

Spike stopped but didn’t look at Xander. He squared his shoulders and stood for all the world as if he was waiting impatiently for this interruption in his life to bugger off. 

“Spike, we need to talk,” said Xander but he didn’t release Spike’s arm.

“Bout what? Need me to look after the Nibblet. Need me to help you fight some demon? Need someone about to hang shit on? Well you can all rot in hell for all I care.”

“No, about you being missed, ok?”

There was a pause and then Spike pulled away from Xander and headed out into the night.

Xander ran to catch up with Spike and when he did, Spike didn’t even look at him but kept walking. They walked along in silence for a while.

“Where are we going?” Xander asked after a lot of internal debating.

“You still here?” Spike responded.

“Yeah, I am dead boy. And I’m not going until we talk.”

Spike stopped. It was dark, and Xander couldn’t quite make out his expression.

“You’re a complete bastard, you know that Harris?” He started walking again.

“You couldn’t let me get away could you? You couldn’t leave me alone. What was it? You missed having someone to torture? Everyone miss having someone around to ignore?”

“No- Spike its not like that, we-”

Spike turned back to him suddenly and Xander felt a tingle of fear.

“It took everything I had to leave. You bloody people never gave a flying fuck about me when I was there. And now you show up and fucking tell me I’m missed? How fucking dare you?  Did Buffy put you up to it? Or was it the Watcher?” He started walking again.

Xander let him go for a moment, partly stunned and ashamed, Spike’s words hitting home, part of him irritated at Spike’s negative response. He wasn’t sure how he’d been expecting Spike to react but it wasn’t like this. And it wasn’t helping being near him after those…thoughts…all week. The rest of him just felt guilty. He walked after Spike.

“It wasn’t Buffy. It was me.”

Spike didn’t respond for a moment, but when he did, his voice was so cold that Xander wished he hadn’t said anything.

“I’d have thought you’d be pleased to see the back of me Harris. You’ve always hated everything I stood for. Only reason I can think of is you miss having me around to despise, either that or you wanted another fuck.  So I suppose it’s my turn to ask, why?”

Xander blushed, and anger flared up in defence against Spike’s cool tone.

“Well, I didn’t come here for your sunny personality.” This wasn’t going right. Xander took a deep breath. “Spike-”

Spike didn’t let him finish, Xander suddenly found a cool mouth being crushed against his. It was a harsh kiss and it left Xander reeling.

“Don’t- don’t say anything,” said Spike quietly and started walking again.

They walked for about five blocks in complete silence before Spike turned a corner and stopped at the door of a fairly nice apartment complex. Xander followed him inside and up a flight of stairs to one of the apartments. Spike let them inside and locked the door. With a shrug he slipped off his duster and started towards the bedroom. 

Xander followed him and saw Spike sitting on the bed, pulling off his boots. Xander sat down uncertainly, not wanting to speak, not wanting to stop this, whatever it was, but at the same time, knowing he had to say something, had to stop it. Spike pulled off his t-shirt and stood up, starting to unfasten his belt.


“Don’t, just don’t.”

Spike stopped unfastening his belt and advanced towards Xander. Xander gulped at the sight of Spike, bare-chested and sexually predatory. Memories of several nights ago sent a wave of desire through him, his fingers brushing over that bare chest, reaching down and unbuttoning those jeans… He involuntarily took a step back as Spike was upon him, pushing him back until he was against the wall. And then suddenly Spike was kneeling in front of him, undoing Xander’s belt, unzipping his fly. Xander started to move and Spike put a hand to his stomach, holding him there, pinning him to the wall with a strength Xander had underestimated. Xander gave in and leaned back against the wall for support as Spike released his achingly hard cock and took him into his mouth.  It was all the fantasies he’d denied all week, everything he’d not wanted to want.

“Spike…” the word was gasped more than spoken.

Spike took him deep into his throat, he’d had a steep learning curve in the past few days and he was getting pretty good at this. He couldn’t have said why he was doing what he was doing, even if he’d wanted to. But this seemed the only thing he could do, to stop from going mad now that his attempted escape was over. He had to stop the despair. He gripped Xander’s hips with one hand and held him captive with the other, tasting him, drinking him, feeling those warm human hands twining in his hair, taking…taking…taking until he heard a strangled cry and tasted the salty cum filling his mouth.  And then he was on his feet, stripping off Xander’s clothes, kissing, kissing desperately. Couldn’t stop, can’t stop. “Spike,” the word was gasped out. Firm hands on his shoulders pushed him back. Spike looked up at Xander, at wide chocolate eyes, at a face and lips flushed from orgasm. Need mirroring his own, but with a hint of confusion. And then he was being kissed back and hands were fumbling at his own jeans.

They managed to make it to the bed, tangled in half-removed clothes, hands and mouths seeking contact. Spike pulled Xander down on top of him and let out a sigh at the feel of warm flesh against his own, the pleasurable crushing sensation of a body on top of him. Then Xander found his mouth again. They moved against each other, friction and heat building arousal. Kissing, tasting, touching and experimenting. More sighs and groans.

Xander felt his cock stirring back to life as it was rubbed against bare flesh and Spike’s own hard on. He didn’t think about why touching another man’s penis could arouse him so much. He didn’t think about all the reasons why he shouldn’t be doing this. It just felt so good. There was only that want, that need and he couldn’t say no. And then Spike was spreading his legs under Xander and pushing his groin up against his belly. Xander gasped and his hands slid down to Spike’s thighs, his buttocks.

“Spike-” he breathed, seeking those soft lips again, that delicious mouth. Xander knew he was desperate but he didn’t care because Spike was desperate too, and it would be ok, it could just happen. He let out a small groan as the lips were denied him and he turned his face to Spike’s throat, dragging his lips across the too smooth skin.

“Fuck me,” Spike ground out.

Xander’s cock twitched and Spike shifted some more, leaving him in a pleasantly familiar position of being between someone’s open legs. Spike’s open legs. Spike’s body was hard underneath Xander, but still pliant, Spike seemed to bend exactly right. Xander moved up slightly, enjoying the feel of his cock and balls dragging against Spike’s, and sought his partner’s eyes. Spike was looking back at him. And the desperation and despair shocked Xander back to sobriety.

He stilled and lifted off slightly so he could look at Spike properly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

The look Spike gave him was raw.

“Just fuck me. That’s what you came here for,” he said in a thick voice.

Xander swallowed hard. He didn’t know what to say, so he fell back on the old reliable ‘if in doubt - babble’ rule.

“No, no I didn’t. I mean, not that I’m complaining, but no, Spike, I came to find you because…I just wanted to tell you we appreciate you. I guess I felt guilty that you left, that…that you left because…ok I shouldn’t have treated you like dirt after, you know…the palmy fun in the crypt.”

Spike shut his eyes, his jaw clenched tight. 

“Hey,” said Xanded softly. This wasn’t right. Spike wasn’t supposed to be hurting. Things were supposed to be better. He hesitated a moment, then touched Spike’s face gently. “We don’t have to do anything. Or we can. Whatever you want.” He shifted, so he wasn’t so obviously poised at Spike butt.

Spike’s voice was quiet when he spoke. “Just, promise me, when you leave tomorrow, don’t come back.”

Xander felt something hard and awful break inside him. Any hate he still had for Spike was forgotten. He had a brief but sudden glimmer of understanding. For once he said the right thing.

“Spike,” he said quietly. “I want you to know, I won’t regret this. Whatever happens, ok?”

Spike let out a long shuddering sigh, then he opened his eyes. He pulled Xander down for a kiss. It was a soft and strangely tender kiss. After a few moments, it deepened and Xander felt Spike’s hand rest firmly on his hard cock, guiding it to rest between his spread legs at the curve of his buttocks.

“You sure?” he murmured, grinding against Spike lightly.

“God yes,” replied Spike, his lips not leaving the hollow of Xander’s throat.

Xander reached down between them, his hand finding Spike’s erection and then slipping lower to run over the smoothness of his ass. Spike arched into his touch and their mouths joined again, kissing as they ground against each other. Spike pulled his legs up, opening himself wider to Xander.

“Lube, we probably need lube…and condoms,” panted Xander.

“I’m dead,” Spike replied. “Nothing can live in me.”

“Lube, though we should use lube.”

Spike retrieved a small tube from his new bedside cabinet and handed it to Xander.

“Now hurry up and fuck me Harris.”

Xander blushed and spread a liberal amount on his erection, before returning to the enticing position of having his dick between Spike’s thighs and his tongue down his throat. More kissing and as Xander’s cock nudged wetly between Spike’s buttocks he didn’t hesitate and pushed forward. He didn’t quite penetrate anything but the slick rubbing sensation made Spike hiss with pleasure.

“Pillow,” he said, grabbing the one beside him and putting it under his hips to get a better angle.

“Sorry, haven’t done this before,” said Xander, reaching between them and touching between Spike’s butt cheeks for the first time. His finger found the tight entrance he sought.

He pushed in a little and Spike groaned.



“Tell me if I’m doing this wrong.”

“Haven’t done this before either,” Spike gasped.

Xander paused. “You haven’t?”

Spike shook his head. “First time for everything,” he said self-deprecatingly.

Xander blushed, then looked up and saw Spike watching him carefully.

“Don’t stop hey?” Spike said softly.

Xander bent forward and kissed Spike firmly and then thrust his finger inside.

Spike groaned.

Xander’s cock throbbed and he leant his head against Spike’s shoulder for support as he did his best to prepare him. Slicking his finger with lube he coated the inside of Spike’s tight entrance, then trembling with barely contained need, he placed his cock at the opening and thrust forward.

It was heaven, pure pleasure. Spike was so tight and Xander had been waiting so long.  He put his hands on Spike’s thighs pushing them back as he pushed in further until he was fully sheathed. He stilled, shaking with the sensation and looked at Spike. His back was arched and he was gripping the sheets tightly, but his eyes were wide open, looking at Xander in amazement.

Xander pulled out a little and watched the pleasure that formed on Spike’s expression. So he pulled out a little more. Then thrust in.

“Oh god yeah, Xan.”

And then he was fucking, hard, fast, pounding into Spike, unable to stop the rush towards orgasm. He saw Spike grab his own angry red cock and start pumping.  And then he was just thrusting hard final thrusts as wave upon wave of pleasure flooded through him.

Spike bit his lip, unable to tear his eyes from Xander’s face, filled beyond comprehension by this human, his enemy, opened wide and taken. Sensations he’d never experienced before flooding through him, making him feel nothing but pleasure. He felt Xander stiffen against him and cum deep inside him and the knowledge of that sharing was enough to send Spike over the edge, orgasm shooting through him.

Xander fell forward heavily, barely preventing himself from collapsing on top of Spike.  With incredible effort he rolled to one side and lay there, panting. Fuck he’d needed that. So much. Had needed it even before the night in the crypt less than a week ago. Needed to burn out the pain with someone else. With Spike. He remembered something and rolled onto his side grinning.

“You’ve never done that before? In a hundred and thirty years you’ve never wanted to try it?”

Spike was lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling. At Xander’s words he tilted his head towards him slightly. His expression was neutral, guarded.

“Not until now.”

Xander suddenly felt uncomfortable. He realised with some embarrassment that this was the first civil conversation he’d had with Spike in a long time. And it had only started. Give it time, Xander thought ruefully, soon we’ll be ripping each other’s throats out.

He overcompensated.

“Oh I get that, hey, I would never have thought about doing it either, I mean until the other night I never wanted to. Very much happy with the heterosexuality, heh…and there’s that whole thing about butt-sex. Repressed homosexual tendencies most guys have I guess. An’ wanted to try it sometime, for both of us. You know, do the strap on thing. Something we never exactly got around to. But I mean, if you want…cause you seemed to really like it, it looked kinda fun. You did really like it, right?”

He finally noticed Spike propped up on one elbow, watching him carefully. Xander fell silent.

“What now?” Spike asked.

This floored Xander. He hadn’t really wanted to go there. There meant dealing with the events of this night and how they impacted on his life and future decisions – either that or happily pretending they never happened. Xander had become very good at repressing.

“Uh, now? Now, I think I pass out happy and satisfied and think about it in the morning?”

“No,” said Spike.

“Ok,” said Xander. “Why not? I mean, your house, but I really am kind of leaning towards snugly, sleepy moments.”

Spike’s stomach did something weird at that image and he cursed himself for it.

“Because if you spend the night here, it will be worse when you wake up tomorrow and realise what you’ve done.”

Xander frowned, realising what Spike was getting at. He realised that sleeping with Spike wasn’t the biggest issue in his life at this moment.

“Hey, been there, had the whole angsty moment. Already dealt.”

Spike looked at him sceptically. Then snorted.

“Oh piss off! You’re telling me Xander Harris is so bloody comfortable with his sexuality that he can fuck a vampire, a male vampire without batting an eyelash?”

“I happen to be very comfortable with my sexuality. I nearly lost my virginity to a praying mantis monster, I did lose it to a homicidal slayer and have I mentioned the ex-love of my life used to be a vengeance demon?”

“Yeah but it was a female praying mantis wasn’t it?”

“Oh! And the life draining Inca mummy-chick? Yet another high point in my love life. Screwing my worst-friend, who happens to be a guy and a vampire, is a walk in the park.” He glanced at Spike and grinned.

Spike snorted, and then chuckled, and then Spike started laughing. Really laughing. And it made Xander start to laugh too.  The kind of laughter that’s laughter in itself and no longer about anything at all. Spike dragged his face from the pillow he was clutching.

“Bloody hell mate, my sex life’s a 7th Heaven Christmas Special compared to yours. And I dated Harm.”

Xander gulped in some air so he could speak. “Ok, I take it back. Your love life is scarier.”

Spike chuckled, and snorted again. Then he rolled over and pulled Xander to him. He looked at the warm, dark haired human wonderingly. “Why you doing this?” he asked not quite sure himself what he meant.

Xander looked down touched by Spike’s expression. “Can you ask me tomorrow when I know why myself?” He glanced up at Spike ruefully. 

Spike sighed. “No. If you stay tonight I won’t let you leave.” Spike rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He knew he was revealing too much, but it didn’t seem like it mattered. He felt like this was the end anyway. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this. You should be gone by now. You were just supposed to remind me why I left. You were supposed to be the final nail. Figuratively speaking.”

Xander didn’t know what to say. “You want me to go?” he asked his tone betraying his confusion and…hurt?

“Bloody hell…no, not at the moment. Though you should, because pretty bloody soon you’ll remember you hate me and then it will be all down hill from there.”

“You hate me too remember?”

Spike raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah I do. I hate you the most out of all of them.”

Xander found that this hurt. Quite a bit.

“Liked you the most too though,” Spike continued. He sighed again. “I can relate to you, all right? I don’t know, out of all of them I felt like we were the ones who should’ve been friends.”

Xander swallowed the annoying lump in his throat.

“I know what you mean,” he said. He considered something for a moment and decided to go with it. “It really hurt you know, when you turned us against each other. I mean you were starting to seem like an actual friend.”

Spike responded gruffly. “Yeah well, I wasn’t adjusting very well to not being able to kill.” He glanced at Xander. “Sorry, wasn’t personal. Just wanted the chip out.”

Xander was silent for a moment. “I guess we were pretty hard on you. Not then, but, well, since Glory, and before that too a bit. You’ve…you’ve been really helpful, even after Buffy died. I know it was just for her, but I guess you could have just left…” Xander paused for a moment before continuing. “Like you did now. I guess I never thought you’d really do it.”

Spike smirked. “Me neither. Seemed to be stuck in that bloody town forever. That’s why…” He looked away for a moment. “Don’t expect me to go back.”

Xander fell silent again.

I don’t want to go back,” he said suddenly.

“Why not?” asked Spike quietly.

Xander looked intently at the bed sheets. “Because if I go then I’ll have to start feeling like crap again and I’ll have to remember that I left my fiancé at the altar and that I’m going to be alone.”

Spike didn’t say anything for a moment. “When we were fucking before – everything was…I forgot, it stopped hurting. It felt better,” he said still in a quiet tone.

Xander nodded, not quite able to believe that Spike did feel exactly like he did. He felt a lump form in his throat and he took a deep breath, forcing the emotion down. “So, is it my turn to try the anal penetration fun?”

Spike pulled him flush against his body and placed a soft kiss on his mouth. He stayed in that position, just taking soft kisses from that warm mouth. Gradually the kisses deepened until Xander had to pull back, panting for breath. Spike buried his head in Xander’s neck, then pulled away reluctantly. This wasn’t right. He couldn’t believe Xander was lying here, wanting more. But somehow he could, because he wanted more, and every time he looked into Xander’s eyes he saw himself.

“Fuck Xan, you’re doing my head in,” he breathed, reaching up to cup Xander’s face, stroking it with his thumb.

Xander grinned. “I’m still thinking I’m going to wake up and this will be a dream.”

And then suddenly, Spike’s expression changed. Open, wanting, warm became cold and unreadable.

Xander noticed. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“You should go.” Spike sat up, turning away from Xander.


“Harris, this is stupid. You came, you had your shag, now let’s not prolong this shall we?”

“Spike? You don’t want-”

“No. I don’t. Go.”

Xander felt hurt and angry all at once and also very confused.

“Fine. Ok, thanks for the screw Spike. It was great while it lasted.” He got up and started hunting for his clothes. Spike didn’t move. He sat hunched over on the side of the bed.

Xander pulled on his pants and his shoes. His shirt was ripped.  Great.

Spike still hadn’t moved.

Xander stood for a moment at the door, torn, wanting Spike to tell him not to be stupid and get back in bed, not wanting it to end like this, but at the same time hurt and upset. The dull ache was back.

Well that was what Spike wanted. Who gave a fuck if this could have been put off until later, Spike wanted to get back to the pain and loneliness.

Xander turned and walked out of the room.

Spike forced himself not to move. His anger had dissipated rapidly with Xander’s hurt tone, but he couldn’t make him stay, maybe he didn’t even want him to stay. What reason would there be for him to stay? Spke had meant what he said. It was better this way. He was stupid to think that it would be anything but this, even for a second. He heard Xander dress. He heard Xander leave the bedroom. He heard Xander opening and then closing the front door.

And then, he was gone. That moment of comfort, understanding, companionship, gone.

And then Spike was free to feel completely miserable.

“Hope you’re bloody happy,” he told himself.

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